


W Is For Wow

by girlintheglen



Series: The ABC Affair [23]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 19:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen





	W Is For Wow

 

 

**Wake Up!**

Illya Kuryakin bolted out of his bed, unconcerned at being naked, and ran into the hallway that led into the living room of his apartment.

“Chyort...’ mumbling beneath his breath the blond ran one hand through his hair and tried to recall what he had been dreaming. The ruminations were interrupted by the sight of someone slumped across his sofa. Not someone.

A body. A woman’s body, with a large red stain on her chest.

Illya couldn’t move for fear of disturbing the person...no, the body... that occupied his sofa. He tried to remember why she was there, but everything came up...

Empty. His memory was empty, and not even the details of the previous day were coming to him now. Had he gone into Headquarters? Did he have dinner with Napoleon or... 

Last night he had gone on a date with ... He tried to remember her name.

Laura. Her name was Laura Bentley.

Her name. She was Laura Bentley. At least that had been what she told him when they met at the bakery earlier in the day.

Why had he asked her on a date? He never did that. Something was wrong, the details were wrong.

Illya opened the desk drawer and pulled out his communicator, hidden inside a false panel to keep other people from snatching it. On this day he was glad to have gone to the trouble. Perhaps he had instinctively put it away, had anticipated trouble.

This qualified as trouble, and as he opened the silver instrument to hail his partner, the body moved. 

Illya stood and stared as Laura regained consciousness. She pushed herself into an upright position, looked around at the strange surroundings and finally at the naked man standing at the end of the sofa.

Illya finally acknowledged to himself that he was completely undressed and grabbed the nearest object large enough to cover himself, or at least his most sensitive parts. That made Laura smile, and she might have reached over to remove the obstruction had she not then looked down and spotted the big stain on the front of her dress.

“Well, isn’t that just swell,’ And then as an after thought...

“Out, damn spot!”

Laura looked up then, smiling at the blond she was beginning to remember through a haze of red wine, sinfully large amounts of caviar and sour cream on delicate potato pastries, and the delicious Russian who had plied her with those delights.  

“Um, do you think it might be a good idea for you to put on some clothes? I mean, I am absolutely willin’ to play with you like that, but it doesn’t seem terribly lady like and, best I can recall, I am still a lady.” The lilt of a Southern accent was a delicate contrast to the room and the two people in it.

Illya blushed down to his, um... well, he nodded his head as he backed out of the room and into his bedroom. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, it was all he could do to try and remember how this woman had gotten him to abandon so many protocols of behavior regarding dating strange women. This was a Napoleon move, something that was going to cause considerable distress when it was all over.

Illya returned to the living room in slightly better condition than he had left, but Laura was fretting over her ruined dress; it was silk, and the wine stain was not likely to come out of it.

The two stopped and examined each other carefully, neither of them completely confident about the previous night. Laura’s recollections seemed a little clearer, but she wasn’t absolutely positive just how far things had gone with this tantalizing man. He was... exotic. Her Southern upbringing had never told her about someone like Illya Kuryakin.

A Russian. Good Lord, a Russian. And a good looking Russian who...

She caught her breath as she remembered a passionate exchange on the sofa where she had awakened to the sight of him in the altogether.

“Illya?”

He knew what was coming and there was nothing in his head to help out. Elsewhere in his body, there was a clue emerging. 

 “Yes... Laura. I... my memory is a bit clouded, perhaps from all of the wine.” He looked around now and saw two bottles on the kitchen table and another one on the floor by the sofa. All of them were empty with only the two glasses to indicate there had been a semblance of civility. _Bohze moi..._

“Illya...’ Now Laura was beginning to fight through the wine colored veil that separated this morning from whatever had happened the previous night. She was no prude, the 60’s had cured almost everyone of that malady. But she didn’t usually jump into bed, or a sofa, with naked Russians of such recent acquaintance. Actually, there were no other naked Russians. Just this one.

And that thought prompted her to reach out towards the man who was now walking towards her, closing the distance until...

A little later, the pair were in a more comfortable setting as they lay entwined on Illya’s bed, in the afterglow of a morning spent enjoying each other’s company, to put it delicately. Laura was languid from the lovemaking, but in the most satisfying way possible, and Illya had a new appreciation for the phrase Southern Hospitality.

It was a place he looked forward to visiting again, and again...   


End file.
